


constellations of us

by auras



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Implied Relationships, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Of Course This Is Going To Have Star Analogies And Aesthetics, me: lmao., my friends: please write something that makes sense for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-06 18:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auras/pseuds/auras
Summary: lucida,n.the brightest star in a constellationand so the stories of him—ofthem—are written in the stars





	constellations of us

**Author's Note:**

> in defense of this, i wrote it four months ago while my brain was being scrambled by a 38°C fever  
> (please don't stare at a computer screen for 5 hours straight if you have a fever)

_I never knew you could have the stars in your hands_ _until I saw you._

**R. Meisel, _Thoughts #86_**

**✩**

 

 

“Do you regret it?”

“What?” Lance turns from where he’s lying on his back to look at the other boy sitting beside him with his knees pulled to his chest. Keith has his gaze turned upwards, focusing on some nonexistent object in the inky space above them.

Keith shrugs, then flops down beside him onto the cool floor of the Castle-ship’s observatory deck.

He keeps his gaze fixated above as he clarifies, “This. Becoming a paladin, coming to space, Voltron. Do you think you’ll ever regret this?”

Lance frowns.

Around them, the universe stills.

 

* * *

 

**coran**

“I don’t think I can do this, Coran,” Lance says, patting nervously at the suit Coran had given to him to wear for the political meeting with the king of the planet they were headed to.

“It’s just talking and being friendly, Lance. You’re great at that. You’ll do fine,” Keith’s voice comes from his left, thick with nonchalance. “Plus, you _did_ volunteer yourself first when Coran asked.”

Lance casts a quick glance at the other boy, who is looking back at him with exasperation and a tiny hint of sympathy. Lance scrubs at his face with his hands in despair. “I know, and I’ve regretted every single moment since speaking up. Teenagers aren’t fit to be diplomats,” he bemoans. He sighs as he slumps down onto his chair.

“We’ll be making our landing in fifteen dobashes, Lance. Be ready to greet the King as soon as we land; he has high expectations for Altean diplomats,” Allura calls from where she’s maneuvering the Castle-ship.

Lance groans again, burying his face in his arms. Maybe the King would be so busy with duties that he won’t have time to meet them, and Lance wouldn’t have to represent Voltron after all; they could do it on another day with someone more experienced, like Shiro. Maybe a Weblum would conveniently appear and eat them all, so that they wouldn’t even make it to the planet and he won’t have to bear the responsibility of maintaining the relationship between Voltron and one of its most powerful allies. Maybe—

“Lance,” a voice interrupts his thoughts, and he feels a gentle weight on his shoulder.

He looks up to see Coran looking at him, smiling reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” the older man says, “it’s completely normal to be nervous since it’s your first time representing Voltron. Even I, the great Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, was absolutely terrified the first time I was chosen to be a diplomat for Altea. I remember back when King Alfor—”

“Coran, I’m really not in the mood for stories and reminiscing,” Lance mumbles, turning his head back down to press his cheek against his folded arms.

“What I’m trying to say,” Coran squeezes his shoulder, “is that just because you’re nervous doesn’t mean you’re any less fit to be our representative. The lessons I’ve been giving you are more than enough to ensure that you go through this smoothly. Just remember what I taught you and, like Keith said, you’ll do great.”

“You really think so?”

Coran chuckles. “Of course, Lance. In fact, I’m glad you were the one who volunteered because you’re a natural at this and you’re easily my most gifted protégé.” He squeezes Lance’s shoulder again. “I trust you, and I believe that you’ll be the best ambassador Voltron has ever had.”

Lance feels his mouth twitch up in a small smile. “Thanks, Coran,” he says.

 

**allura**

Lance tips his head up to take in the sight of the Blue Lion sitting calmly in her hangar. She’s quiet; she has been ever since they’d switched for him to pilot the Red Lion and Allura to pilot Blue.

He sighs, pressing his palm against one of her paws. It dwarfs his own hand and he suddenly feels very, very small.

“She doesn’t hate you, you know,” Allura’s says from behind him.

“What?” He turns around, feeling his face heat up. Had Allura heard what he’d said to Blue when his lion shut him out? He hopes not; that wasn’t one of his proudest moments and he’d be eternally embarrassed if she had.

Allura smiles as she walks up to him, resting a hand on Blue as well.

“Blue and I, we share a mental link now that she’s accepted me as her paladin,” Allura explains. “I know what you must be thinking, since your lion shut you out and refused to let you pilot her but—she doesn’t hate you.”

“No?”

“No,” Allura says firmly. “She thinks highly of you, in fact. Not even Blaytz, the first blue paladin, was able to connect with her and fly her with as much ease and as quickly as you did. Everything that you feel, she felt too; your love for your family, your love for space, your love for the team and Voltron. That’s how she knows that you’re sincere and genuine: a paladin worthy of her. The same goes for the red lion as well. She feels your love for her former paladin.”

Lance feels himself flush as he shakes his head before he looks back up at the lion in front of him, his hand sliding off hesitantly.

“I—”

“Lance, the blue lion could never, ever hate you. The lions are a reflection of their paladins, so all that love that you pour out, she mirrors it back and reciprocates it as well.” Allura smiles at him again. “I might be piloting her right now, but you were still her paladin. She chose _you_ for a reason, out of everyone back on Earth, to be the first human paladin. That’s something special, don’t you think?”

Lance bites his lip as he places a hand on Blue again, spreading his fingers out to feel the infinitesimal grooves and dents on the metal of her paw. A gentle purring fills the room, and it reverberates through his entire being.

 

**shiro**

“Great work out there, team,” Shiro says to Pidge and Lance as he pulls off his helmet, tucking it under his arm. “Allura will be debriefing us soon, so get washed up. Slav, Coran will show you around the ship.”

Lance steps to turn towards his room, but stops and looks back when Shiro calls his name.

“What's up?” he asks.

“You really saved the mission back there,” Shiro admits. “Without you, we wouldn’t have been able to get Slav back to base.”

“It was nothing,” Lance replies. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”

Shiro shakes his head. “Not everyone has the same quick reflexes and sharpshooting skills as you. I’m glad you came on this mission with us.” The older man pauses before grinning, “You know, you said Keith does cool stuff and junk like that, but what you did back there was pretty cool yourself; I’m sure Keith would’ve thought the same. Pity he wasn’t there to see it.”

Lance squawks in embarrassment, but Shiro only chuckles at his reddening face.

“You’ve grown since your first day of becoming a paladin of Voltron,” Shiro continues earnestly as soon as his laughter has died down. He claps a hand over Lance’s shoulder. “I’m sure your family would be proud of you if they could see you now.”

Lance sees his vision go blurry and his visor mist up as he clears his throat and thanks Shiro. They already are, he does not say.

 

**pidge**

“It doesn’t seem safe,” Lance says dubiously, eyeing the clunky contraption in front of him.

“C’mon Lance, Hunk and I spent _hours_ on this,” Pidge insists, folding her arms.

Lance pokes at the invention, recoiling when it shudders and jerks at his touch, releasing a thin tendril of smoke. He narrows his eyes, lips turned down. “It _really_ doesn’t seem safe.”

“You won’t know until you try it. _Pleaaaaaase,_ Lance? You're the only few people who's daring enough to test it out.”

"Reckless enough, you mean. It’s a jetpack powered by food goo. _Neon orange food goo,_ specifically,” he says.

“Come on,” Pidge repeats, “We’d never get to do something as cool as this back at the Garrison.” Her eyes glint slyly as she continues, “We already got Keith to agree to beta test it for us so if you agree to it we can have a race between you two or something.”

Lance rubs his temples in frustration. They got _Keith_ of all people to test it out for them?

“Hunk and I bet on who will win,” Pidge adds. “He’s rooting for you but I’ve got my money on Keith.”

Lance scowls. “I can’t believe you got Keith to do it knowing that he’s my _rival_ _,_ ” he says. “I’m going to kick his ass and prove you wrong.”

He snatches up the jetpack and fastens the straps to his shoulders, cursing under his breath. Pidge gives him a knowing smirk that he pointedly ignores.

 

**hunk**

Lance stares at the array of luminescent rocks displayed on the shop stand in front of him, unimpressed.

“Are you sure? This doesn’t seem very romantic,” he asks Hunk with uncertainty.

Hunk picks up one of the emerald rocks that is glowing softly, squinting as he inspects it. He turns to give Lance a half-hearted glare. “Shay is _not_ my girlfriend, so it isn’t a _romantic_ gift,” he protests. “Anyway, she’s a rock too, technically, so logically she should like stones, right?”

Lance shrugs. “You’re not fooling anyone with the whole Shay’s-not-my-girlfriend act,” he says.

Hunk huffs in indignation as he passes his selected stone to the shopkeeper. “Shay’s a friend. I just think it’s cool that there are _rock people_ out here, and that we get to work with them,” he says. “I wouldn’t have dreamed it in a million years or believed it if we hadn’t came out here ourselves.”

Lance hums in agreement, reaching his hand out to glide over the rainbow of stones. All of the them were of different colours, each with its unique pattern of swirls and glows on them. Every one of the stones on display were extremely rare, scoured from the far reaches of the galaxy, the shopkeeper had boasted.

“Want one, kid?” the shopkeeper pipes up. “I’ll give you half off for the second one. Special offer for Voltron’s paladins.”

“You should get one,” Hunk agrees. He pauses before adding on, “It’ll make things less awkward when I gift mine to Shay. Plus, you might need it sometime soon.”

"As a romantic gift? I don't think so." Lance rolls his eyes fondly at his best friend. He sighs. “Just for you, ‘cause I’m the best wingman out there, buddy,” he relents.

His hand stops, resting on a smooth violet stone. He picks it up carefully, scooping it up with both hands. The rock thrums, like a heartbeat, and begins to glow with life.

 

**keith**

“You’ve got to stop rushing blindly into battle,” Lance says as he applies antiseptic to the large gash on Keith’s bicep. The wound has stopped bleeding, leaving only few smudges of dried blood around the edges.

“I saved your ass,” Keith grumbles. “The galra sentries were _this_ close to obliterating you completely.”

Lance scoffs as he holds Keith’s arm up gently with one of his hands to angle it better.

“I could’ve taken them all out if you hadn’t came in to steal my thunder,” he retorts. He places a square of clean dressing onto the wound, and begins looping the roll of bandage around the other boy’s arm with careful precision. The bandage wraps around Keith’s wound securely.

“Whatever you say,” Keith tells him. “We fight better as a team though.”

“Anyway, you can’t just keep doing that,” Lance frowns, ignoring the other boy. “All the heroics and self-sacrificing.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “We’re paladins of Voltron. We’re supposed to be the defenders of the universe,” he says. “How can I defend it if I don’t fight?”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t fight,” Lance points out. “I’m just saying you should be more careful. We can’t afford to lose you.”

“We can’t afford to _lose_.” Keith scowls, his gaze burning a hole through Lance. “If I die, the lions will be able to find a replacement for Voltron quickly enough anyway. That, or we’ll be rid of the problem of having an extra paladin.”

Lance lifts his chin up to meet the other boy’s gaze with equal ferocity.

“You’re such an asshole,” he snaps. “Stop thinking that you can make decisions like this on a whim without consideration for any of the consequences. You can’t just willingly throw yourself at danger without care for your own life at all.”

Keith growls, his hands balled up into fists. Lance feels the way the other boy’s muscles tense underneath his hand. “It’s  _my_ life,” he snarls back. “Why do you care anyway?”  

“I care because I don’t appreciate the thought of someone I _love_ dying,” Lance hisses before he can stop himself, spitting out the word _love_.

The other boy’s muscles go slack and his fists unclench slowly.

“Oh,” he says softly. His voice wobbles.

“Yeah,” Lance replies, just as quietly. His fingers still, hesitant.

“I’m sorry,” Keith murmurs.

Lance shakes his head, forced airy laughter bubbling at his lips reflexively. “You don’t have to apologise,” he says. “It’s not your fault that I dropped a bomb like this on you. And you’re not the one to blame for _me_ falling in love with you.”

“No, I mean,” Keith gestures awkwardly with his free arm, “I’m sorry for worrying you so much.”

“Oh,” Lance echoes, his mind unable to process things properly right now. He takes in Keith’s expression; the other boy is biting his lip and looking at him nervously, all previous traces of anger gone now.

_Oh_. His mind supplies helpfully.

Lance turns his head back down to focus on Keith’s arm, feeling his cheeks grow hot. He finishes wrapping the bandage around Keith’s arm and presses adhesive tape to the end of the material to ensure that it stays on. Keith offers him a small smile and a quiet  _thanks_ before wrapping his fingers around Lance's uncertain wrist, feeling the fluttering of his pulse, and presses his heart to Lance's.

 

* * *

 

Lance closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. He feels it now; the ceaseless rippling of the universe swirling with life and the stardust as it fills his lungs and courses through his veins. 

He reaches an arm over and intertwines his fingers with Keith’s. The tips of their fingers brush. The other boy stiffens at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away. His hand relaxes, before his fingers curl to hold on to Lance tighter. Keith’s hand brings a warmth that even the infinite galaxy cannot.

“I don’t,” Lance murmurs. “I don’t regret it one bit.”

_I don’t regret us one bit._

He opens his eyes again, slowly.

Overhead, illuminated by the warm light of reds and blues, a constellation shines.

**Author's Note:**

> the pressing-of-his-heart is meant to be metaphorical and not literal chest-to-chest. this whole goddamn fic is a metaphor.
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://kestrels.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/marmorites)


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